Murder In The Academy : A chilling murder mystery set in Belfast (Alice Fox Murder Mysteries Book 1)

by Maggie Feeley

  “Who can that be … unknown caller?”

  He lifted the phone to his ear and muttered his name by way of greeting. His expression of gloom intensified as he rested his head in his free hand and listened to the caller.

  “Yes, detective,” he said, “but can you tell me exactly why …” He was listening again and looking defeated. “Yes. OK. I’ll be there for three o’clock.”

  Mairéad looked at him questioningly and stretched her upturned palms towards him to emphasise her query.

  “They want me to come in to the police station for further questioning.” His bottom lip slackened and his shoulders slumped. “There are matters with which they feel I can be of further assistance. What under God might that mean?”

  Mairéad too was taken aback by this development but said nothing.

  “I’d better get it together anyway. I’ve to be there by three o’clock. Don’t want them coming looking for me.” He began to gather his belongings.

  “Ralph, I will try and contact Alice and see what she thinks. They may just want to rule you out of the inquiry. Try to keep your cool and phone me as soon as you get out.”

  They stood and she placed her hand a little helplessly on his.

  “I will try my best to get Alice Fox …” she said as he turned despondently and made his way towards the exit.

  As Mairéad approached the departmental office she saw that the door was open and someone could be heard moving about inside. She hoped against hope that Alice Fox had returned unexpectedly from her scheduled day in the EXIT project. That would be a stroke of luck. As she pushed at the door her heart fell when she saw the back of Jackson Bell who was using the departmental phone. He was replacing the telephone as she made her way to her side of the desk and sat down.

  Bell’s anxious expression had become a fixture in recent days and Mairéad knew better than to ask any specific questions. “May I help you with something, Professor Bell?” she said efficiently and opened her drawer to check that her supply of rice crackers was sufficient to the afternoon ahead.

  “I was trying Liam Doyle’s home number but there was no reply. I know he lives with an elderly relative and I wanted to make sure that … Mrs Walsh, Liam Doyle has just been taken into the Grosvenor Road Police Station for further questioning. I have no idea what’s going on but I feel responsible for letting his family know.”

  For reasons that Mairéad could not have elaborated on if asked, she found herself remaining quiet about Ralph’s invitation to the police station. Instead, as soon as Bell left, she texted Wilson to say that he was not the only person who was being questioned. She hoped that might help him to remain calm and not contribute any further to a negative image of himself. Then she turned her attention to tracking down Alice Fox.

  33

  Hugo and Alice worked companionably through the day, finishing in the late afternoon with a hearty plate of fish and chips in the local café. By the time they had closed the red EXIT door behind them, they were both fully up to date on the conference and on each other’s holiday period. Alice had enthused about the walks in Wicklow and Hugo reported that he had made strides in his culinary adventures with his son. He said they were nearly ready to experiment if she could think of anyone who might be willing to take a risk. She had laughed and said she would give that challenge careful consideration.

  The group had not raised any urgent issues at all over the break, which they agreed was a sign of their growing maturity. They had a solid plan for how to extend the new work with the group around social responsibility, agency and the role of state bodies and representatives. This would be the term of critical citizenship in practice. They had a series of viable suggestions to discuss at their meeting with the group the following week and they had totally earned their hearty Friday evening tea.

  The local chipper was owned and run by an Italian family and Hugo was evidently a frequent customer. Several generations of the Fusco family sat at a table towards the rear of the eating area and little by little they all found a reason to stop by and exchange some chat with Hugo and this interesting new woman.

  A grandmother figure with a definite twinkle in her eye enquired if Alice was going to be a regular customer. She winked shamelessly at Hugo who accepted the banter with ease.

  “Alice is much too fit and healthy to be eating chips every night of the week, Nonna,” he parried with her.

  The woman patted Alice’s shoulder and reassured her with mock sincerity. “I make you a perfect green salad next time you come, signorina. Hugo needs to have a good example too.”

  There was no telling where this was all going but the scene was disturbed by the entry of Gary from the EXIT group who was clearly looking for Hugo. The nonna faded towards the back of the room and rejoined her family who were eating and watching a TV affixed to the wall above their table.

  It was clear that the young man was agitated. “What’s up, Gary?” Hugo asked calmly. “Sit down and let us hear your news.”

  Gary remained standing, shifting about nervously from foot to foot.

  “The cops have just come to our Liam’s house and are talking about searching it,” he blurted all in one breath. “They said it is about the murder of the woman in the college where Alice and our Liam work. He isn’t home and I was looking after the old lady till he gets back. I panicked a wee bit and ran. I didn’t know what to do so I just left them there with her and came looking for you.” He waited wide-eyed for Hugo to provide a solution.

  “Well, let’s go around there and make sure old Mrs Doyle isn’t too freaked out by her visitors. Or more likely that they aren’t too freaked out by her! Then we can see what else needs to be done about Liam.” He turned to Alice as he was standing to leave. “How do you feel about coming along, Alice?”

  “Sure,” said Alice, wondering if it was appropriate for her to be there but surmising that as a co-facilitator of the group she was well within her rights to be part of the salvage mission. “Lead the way, Gary!”

  “I’ll settle up with you later, Domenico!” Hugo called back as they left the café.

  They crossed the main road in the direction of the EXIT premises but took a left turn along a small cul de sac, just before the EXIT alley. There were eight or ten small terraced houses on the street and two police cars were parked at the far end facing outwards. One car was empty except for a uniformed driver. The other had two uniformed police officers sitting in the front.

  Hugo knew where he was going and headed straight through the open door without knocking. An elderly woman sat in the corner of a small living room beside an open fire. Although her hair was pure white, Alice could straight away see the family resemblance to Liam Doyle. The glorious red hair and fine features were obvious in a number of the family photos placed around the room. Two detectives sat on a small sofa facing the woman. The older of the two was holding some papers.

  “Hi, Mrs Doyle,” said Hugo, bypassing the men and going straight to the old woman to give her a hug. “Have you been causing difficulty to the forces of law and order?”

  She laughed heartily but the laugh became a barking cough that lasted until Gary got her a drink of water from the small adjoining kitchen.

  Hugo turned to the detectives, both of whom Alice recognised from Caroline Paton’s team that had spent the previous day in DePRec.

  “I’m Hugo Ramsey, a local community worker and this is my colleague Dr Alice Fox who is a scholar in DePRec and works with us locally. Can we help you at all?”

  A flash of recognition crossed the older man’s face when he heard Alice’s name. This was Caroline Paton’s insider contact. He stood up awkwardly and shook hands with both Hugo and Alice, introducing himself as Detective Sergeant William Burrows and the younger man as Detective Constable Ian McVeigh. McVeigh, unable to easily free himself from the low, cramped sofa where he had become ensconced, nodded in greeting.

  “We have a warrant to search this house as the home of Liam Doyle who is assisting us in con
nection with an ongoing inquiry. We didn’t want to proceed until there was someone to look after Mrs Doyle.”

  Alice registered the careful approach taken by the detectives and wondered how the same scenario might have played out back home.

  Mrs Doyle’s strident voice broke in on her reflections. “I keep telling them there must be a mistake. My grandson Liam is a good wee lad who has never been in any bother. He has a job in the college looking after the young students.” She paused for breath and then took off again. “His ma and da both died in the Troubles and he has lived with me since then so I know what I’m talking about. I looked after him and his sister and now he’s looking after me.” She turned to Hugo. “Hugo, tell them Liam is a good lad that wouldn’t be mixed up in anything like this.”

  All this time Gary was standing nervously just inside the kitchen door, watching closely what was happening.

  Alice sat down next to Mrs Doyle on a small stool and placed a comforting hand on the old woman’s arm. She could feel the woman begin to relax.

  Hugo was looking at the papers that Bill Burrows had been holding. “This all seems in order. I guess you’d better go ahead,” he said tentatively. “Gary, go and see if Shane Ramsey is home and could drop down to give us a bit of advice. Sounds as if Liam may need a solicitor anyway so I’m sure Shane will oblige.”

  Gary left immediately.

  By way of explanation to Alice, Hugo said, “Gary is Liam’s young brother-in-law so he’s part of the Doyle extended family now.” He and Mrs Doyle confirmed the veracity of this with an exchange of nods. “Shane is a cousin of mine from the intelligent side of the family. There’s a small enough gene pool in this area!”

  Burrows interrupted this account of community relationships. “Doyle hasn’t been charged or arrested but you are welcome to provide a solicitor if you wish. We will just proceed with our search now that you are here to watch over Mrs Doyle.”

  With that the two detectives went to the front door and signalled for the two officers in the second car to join them.

  Burrows allocated distinct areas to each man and they began their search. Within less than ten minutes every inch of the small house was being combed. Gary returned with a middle-aged man in a grey suit and an open-necked shirt. He first greeted Mrs Doyle and then turned to the others in the room.

  “What’s going on here, Hugo? I was just through the door and had taken my tie off ready to have a Friday evening beer.”

  Hugo introduced Alice, explained the situation and Shane agreed the warrant was in order. He said he would head down to Grosvenor Road Station and see if he could be of use to Liam and would let Hugo know what was happening.

  “I’ll send our Colette down here to stay with Mrs Doyle,” he said. “Gary, I’m sure your ones will be wondering where you are. You go off home now. Well done on organising us all.”

  He saluted Gary who left willingly.

  “The poor lad is very nervous around the cops,” Shane explained and headed off with every sign of efficiency to arrange care for Mrs Doyle and legal support for Liam.

  Alice was fascinated at the ease and good humour with which the local community network was mobilised. Hugo emerged clearly as a pivotal and respected figure in that process and her appreciation of him increased accordingly.

  From the moment Gary had arrived at the café she had been thinking about how Liam Doyle could be implicated in Helen Breen’s death. She’d been surprised when she’d discovered that Liam Doyle was a supporter of Breen. It seemed out of kilter with the views of most of his colleagues. When she had evaluated the class she covered for Helen Breen the students had said it was interesting but not part of their course and therefore not very useful. They had seemed generally discontented with their learning experience and she had suggested they should talk to Doyle in his capacity as student rep. They had rolled their eyes and laughed and implied that there was a sexual relationship between Doyle and Breen and that Doyle was unlikely to accept any criticism of his beloved.

  On another occasion, Liam had made supportive comments to Alice about Breen’s suitability for a management role, which had surprised her a little at the time. Mairéad and Ralph had talked about the close conversation between Liam and Helen Breen the night of the Christmas drinks party in Janet Hartnett’s. None of that really suggested a motive for murder only a short time later and she would need more detail to understand what was going on. She reminded herself that she was a bystander rather than a detective in this case but her instincts were driving her to try and make sense of what was happening.

  Hugo was closely attending to the activity of the police and, when they returned to the living room holding a laptop and some diaries, he immediately stood up and asked what they were removing. The younger detective handed over a handwritten list. They politely thanked Mrs Doyle and apologised for the disturbance to her evening and then they left.

  Almost immediately a young woman in her late teens arrived.

  “Here’s my favourite baby-sitter,” quipped Mrs Doyle who was beginning to look a little weary. “Make me a cup of tea and a wee bit of toast, love, and I’ll go to bed quietly.”

  Colette laughed skeptically and went straight into the kitchen.

  “We’ll be off, Mrs Doyle,” announced Hugo, “but I will call by later to see what’s happening. I’m sure Shane will bring Liam back with him.”

  The old woman’s eyes were cast downwards towards her hands, which moved busily in her lap.

  Outside they headed for EXIT. Alice needed to collect her bike and she had a few questions to ask Hugo about Liam Doyle and if there were reasons, apart from the obvious fact that he and Helen Breen were close, why he might have landed himself straight into the middle of a murder investigation.

  34

  In the town of Holywood, situated along Belfast Lough between the city and the coastal town of Crawfordsburn, Janet Hartnett had stopped mid-afternoon on her way home from work to collect some groceries. It had surely been some eventful return to work after the Christmas break. It was Friday afternoon in a week that had been dominated by a mighty storm, the discovery of Helen Breen’s body and the fairly constant presence of the PSNI in the college. Janet had had her own interview with the Murder Squad that morning. Detective Sergeant Burrows had been pleasant enough. She had explained that she was new to the college and that her role as Faculty Head meant that DePRec was only a fraction of her responsibilities. She was not, for example, up to speed on all of the intricacies of inter-personnel rivalries. The recent revival in her connection with Helen Breen, she had explained easily as a desire on Breen’s part to establish a positive link with her in her new role as Head of Faculty.

  “She was obviously an ambitious woman, Sergeant, who had her sights on the upcoming professorship in DePRec. I am not a stupid person. I knew what she wanted and, frankly, she struck me as a better prospect than her opponent who was known as quite the firebrand.”

  Burrows had been most interested in the fact that she had been at the same school as Helen Breen and had poked about in the detail of their connection back then. She had explained that because of the three-year age gap their relationship had been limited. They had met socially a few times through mutual rugby connections but they couldn’t ever have been described as friends. He had made a note of her maiden name and she had wondered a little about the significance of that. It was decades since she had been called Janet Baldwin and that person had long ago become a stranger to her. She and Burrows hadn’t talked for long and she felt sure that she had not emerged as someone who was of any great interest to their inquiry.

  As she toured the shelves in Tesco she filled her trolley with her son’s favourite produce. This was indeed a labour of love. At seventeen, Rory was now her main man. He had suffered brain damage at birth and required fulltime care. She had split up with his father several years earlier and had made a valiant effort to balance job and home-care responsibilities by herself until the strain became unbearable. As Rory
outgrew school and day-centre care proved unsuitable, she had no option but to abandon her career in London and head home. There at least she would be able to call on support from her parents and try to make the best of things. The post in Belfast City College had been opportune and for the first time in years she felt her life was getting back on track. She could finish up her working life quite happily back in Northern Ireland and her pension alongside her substantial gains from the divorce would make for a secure future for Rory and her. She wasn’t going to let anything disrupt that plan now that so much effort had gone into putting it in place.

  As she headed for the car she saw that there was someone in the passenger seat. She was sure she had locked the car but here was the reminder that this man was no respecter of boundaries. She loaded her shopping into the boot and slipped into the driving seat.

  “What an unexpected pleasure, Alan,” she said sweetly. “That’s what you want to be called now, is it? One of the real perks of being back in the North is knowing that I can see you as often as I want. Takes you back, doesn’t it?”

  “I got your message,” he said. “I thought I said that I wanted us to keep contact to a minimum until the interest in our little clean-up project blows over. It’s actually better if you don’t know what’s happening and then you can play dumb with greater conviction.” He kept a sharp eye on her reaction to this remark and was pleased to see he hadn’t pushed too hard. He met her gaze with all the mock sincerity he could muster. “After all, there needs to be a bit of trust between us now that we have resurrected our old relationship.”

  Her response was scathing. “Let’s not wander off into La La land, Alan. You’re much more spook than trusted contact to me. Just keep me in any loop I need to be in. I don’t want any unexpected callers at my door.”

  “Understood, Professor.” He tugged his forelock subserviently. “The forces of law and order are too preoccupied with Doyle and Wilson at the moment for you or me to be even slightly interesting. Go home and have a large Friday G&T and leave the case management to me. I’ve got this.”